Long Balcony Poems
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What’s left of Octavia glides down the hall
Past the portraits she painted in life,
Now framed in mahogany, rosewood, and oak,
And they’re hers for the haunting tonight.
She looks for the canvas she started the day
Her desire became indiscrete;
A nude on a balcony under the moon.
It was one she would never complete.
What’s left of Octavia passes the wall
Where her art is the featured display,
Recalling advances she made in the past
That went far beyond being risqué.
She goes to the window and conjures the scene
As it happened those long years before,
And thinks of the model who posed for her then;
A temptation too ripe to ignore.
What’s left of Octavia mourns what she’s lost
Like a dreamer deprived of her dream.
Her husband threw open the studio door
To discover her subject and theme.
He looked at the model, he looked at his wife,
And he saw what a fool he had been
To blindly indulge her artistic pursuits,
Which she took as occasion to sin.
A new moon at midnight. She whispers a name.
Her face in the shadows, a study in pain.
Still searching for what she can never regain,
And she’s out on a haunting tonight.
What’s left of Octavia longs for the time
She felt anything other than numb.
The smell of the paint and the feel of the brush
Being foreign to what she’s become.
A specter deprived of the flavor of life.
An obsession that won’t fade away.
A monochrome canvas, a faintly drawn sketch
From a palette with ten shades of gray.
What’s left of Octavia stands on the ledge,
And considers the landscape below.
The moment of impact still fresh in her mind,
Because time has not softened the blow.
Her family gathered to lay her to rest,
And the ring was removed from her hand.
Though people would gossip, and ponder her fate,
There are none who in truth understand.
What’s left of Octavia comes to him now,
Late at night when he puts on her ring.
A family heirloom entrusted to him
When he married his lover last spring.
He stands in the dark as she enters the room,
And the séance is set to begin.
She watches him pose, while he takes off his clothes,
With her brushstrokes caressing his skin.
Confessions at midnight. She whispers a name.
Her face in the shadows, a study in pain.
Still searching for what she can never regain,
But he's hers for the haunting tonight.
A boy. Short. He goes to school and cowardly hides behind every corner, scouting out what lurks behind the next turn. Always shoved and disregarded, he seemed to have no friends. He was bullied everyday by this monster. Someone who terrorized him since day one. “Why me?” was his battle cry, just before every black eye.
A boy. Alone. He was adored at school. A big jock. He hated his life, his choices. He picked on this kid, a rather small kid, who was simply pathetic. He would catch glimpses of him, cowering behind corners, and hiding in bathroom stalls. It was this kid that made him popular. He did not hate this him, but simply saw him as an stress reliever. Anger reliever. He was praised at school, abused at home. School was his safe haven; his home away form home, but no one knew what truly went on behind that strong, muscular smile. Divorce. Abuse. Shame. His mother was a prostitute, sold every part of her just to manage to keep him alive. His father was a drunk. Abused every inch of him to relieve him of his intoxicated wounds.
A mom. A prostitute. As a little girl she was very bright. Did well in school, and even managed to get into a good college. It wasn’t until that one night she mad a stupid mistake. It was one of those fraternity parties. “All the cool kids went, right?” She would tell her self. That’s all it took. One kid. One rufie. One sip. Next thing she knew she was pregnant. She dropped out of college. Told her boyfriend it was his kid. Got married. And had a beautiful baby boy. It took five years until she told her husband the truth. The truth about the conception. He left. She was alone, receiving no support. No money. It took her one month until she found herself in the back of a strangers car in an alley way for $200.
A frat boy. A stupid hazing ritual. “Host a party. Drug a girl. Have sex.” Only he made a mistake. He got drunk. Too drunk. He had no control over his actions. The demon residing within him took over, raped a girl, and impregnated her with what ruined her dreams, his dreams. In frustration he went to get fresh air. And made one more stupid mistake. He was conscious of what he did, and knew he could not live with his mistake. Police found him hung from the fraternity balcony the next morning.
This is in dedication to all those who suffered from something that was no in there control.
We drove in two separate cars a few miles along the ocean shore
I am not afraid, life has been depressing, I just don’t care anymore
We turn down a pebbled driveway, with lion statues guarding the gate
I am shocked when I see us approaching an old Victorian mansion estate
Frank gets out of his car, his blue eyes bright and with a smile on his face
He tells me he just inherited this mansion and is busy renovating the place
He takes my hand as he leads me up the granite steps and into the foyer
He tells me he has a case in town, and has also been working as a lawyer
We walk through a marbled living room and into a nautical themed den
He tells me he has lived here since May as he inherited the mansion then
He then tells me that he has known about me and is distant cousin of my ex
I start to let my guard down, even though I am not sure what will happen next
He looks into my eyes and smiles, takes my hands and gently kisses me
I enjoy his kisses and let him embrace me closer, not feeling afraid only free
He leads me upstairs to his master bedroom with a view of crashing waves
I am so amazed and elated, but I need to slow down and not give in and cave
He takes my hand and leads me out through the French doors to the balcony
We sit in antique wrought iron chairs while sipping wine, just like a fantasy
I suddenly start to feel very sleepy, woozy and faint, not sure what is going on
He then carries me to his large bed, lays me down and the curtains are drawn
I wake up the next morning, realizing I am naked under the covers in his bed
Trying to remember last night, as I start to worry with some feelings of dread
Relieved, I hear Frank coming up the stairs as I start to relax and calm down
But instead an older woman walks in and stops and stares at me with a frown
I am shocked, I ask her who she is and if Frank is here somewhere downstairs?
She tells me she’s the owner, Frank was a contractor hired to do some repairs
She’s been scammed, the job’s not done and Frank's gone with all his tools
I feel a tear run down my face, as I realize I was played and now a gullible fool
11/2/19 The last and 4th part of The Distant Shores Series
Anything You Want Contest
Judged and NA'd on 11/2/19
Writing Challenge - December - Any poem NA'd in November 2019
Sponsor, Dear Heart- Wiishkobi Ode
Day or night all the same
Clock ticks to put hour its name
Steps i take are all counted
From bed to balcony no railing mounted
I breath air to recognize the season
And pray god to gift me the vision
I heard Johnny say cloud are fluffy and white
I am not sure weather he is right
Sun only make me warm but never cry
As dark glass protects my eye
On the wide streets with all alone
I seek company of friends far gone
Car honks all around me
Streets are not as safe they used to be
I took my shoes and stick in hand
I walk like i am sinking in sand
Finger and palm touch the face
Eye cheat me to tell its spade's ace
Mom said stars are glitter in sky
But i cant see them, god tell me why
Dreams only has random words
How do i recognize the chirping bird
Few say they wore red or white
How do i know which colour is bright
Streets may have name for others
Poles and bus stands are my guiding brothers
Streets have lamp to light pedestrians way
My ears help me to make the play
Strangers everyday come and go
One day my eyes will have vision and glow
Finger tell me socks tore
Loneliness making me so bore
Happiness plays hide and seek
Eyes are gaurded by darkness so thick
Mirror never told me single lie
Mom said i have pretty smile
Daddy never gave up on me
He took me to feel the sea
Waves are blue and white on top
Put your leg and try them to stop
Blind as me, still walk with pride
Customer of ferry enjoy their ride
Santa please come before Christmas eve
Put pair of eyes besides Christmas tree
He came with the gift that i want
gave me glasses with eyes on top drawn
Blessed i am with pair of eyes to have
It still made me stay in the darkest cave
On a lonely night i sat and sobbed
Why oh god, my eyes are robbed
It seems like he heard my plea
In weeks i got a pair of eyes too see
Doctor said i am lucky to receive pair of eye
In an accident last night, some one waved the world his good bye
No one knew who was he what was his name
But he was like gods angel came
Now eyes have glow it never had
Its the best gift that i wished every night before going to bed
Thank you dear who gave me the vision stolen for years
My eyes are filled with tears
Now i have to live my life with reason
I should try to gift all blind with vision
"The Hummingbird Cake"
The day started bright -
Bright Eggshell Blue
and ended in percussion
dark and cloudy stormed in
thunder pummelled drums
against a backdrop of
bruised eggshell dijon yellow
sweating heavy sage green
spitting spoilt the swollen pride of purple,
a wet abrasion against
Electric Blue
crackling along her lips
like Lightening
Sizzled on
her bitumen
her mind
winked at you...
Splits two
into one
not three
Taken slowly
deliberately
cake digested
swallowed like swallows
nibbling freely on air
a symphony of do you see me
in a Hummingbird storm
stairs to you she stares
upwards forever upwards
at lines of ebony tied tight
words kick and spit
like a cat in heat caught up
in a hessian sack
words in a puzzle
shaken and caste
on a playing board
pure white
not black
She,
Third person,
always Third person,
listens to her own heart
and then listens to the
words you have put on
and slowly worn warm
Revisits in her evening
a conversation with an old friend
Lorikeets on the balcony
Passionfruit cake and their
beaks in honey
a day in the life of Mosman
Carmen the dancer
Blueberries and
Raspberry Banana Bread
and Gold Crested
Pterodactyl Cockatoos
commandeering her kitchen
her gangster lovers
dead ends and loose screws
The day started bright blue
Ended in a thunder clap
boiling over onto a glowing hotplate
of flying embers,
reckless kisses and an unplanned
Storm;
A piece of Hummingbird Cake
was fed through a thread
In dreams while you watched
a movie in bed
Spoken to you
through
mind cerebral
not Reality read
Poppyseed and Honey
Bees buzzing on swollen
unheard lips
that silently bled Red
Words
Meanings
Life
Read
Red
Sugar ingested,
Honey to Blue Horse Flies.
Australiana
Fed.
Sleep,
Bed.
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
"Listen to the Hummingbird" / Leonard Cohen
https://youtu.be/hYIeW8bwlWQ
"Meadow" / Liam Gallagher
https://youtu.be/wHVuW7eOPNI
"Cosmic Dancer" / T.Rex
https://youtu.be/GMfjA4gyEcU
"Meadow" / Liam Gallagher, Lyrics
https://genius.com/Liam-gallagher-meadow-lyrics
Transcendence
She stood alone on a balcony
Staring at the haunting moon in Mexico.
It was her last night of vacation with him.
He slept peacefully, as she said her goodbyes to the lonely sky.
Silently, tears streamed down her face and
the celestial beacons in the Mexican sky shone brightly.
As her heart felt it could break no more,
She had a sense that all would change when she returned to her Canadian home.
She marveled that the same moon was showing its face, in the same fashion as she had seen
A million times before.
The moon lit the entire night with a hopeful shimmer
Beckoning to light her way in the darkness over the ocean.
She cried out to her God
And begged Him to let me stay there,
Hidden away from all her troubles
Surrounded by the graceful beauty of a vast ocean
The warmth and peacefulness of a past forgotten and unknown in this place
Away from the troubles of a mother’s broken heart
Over a son who’d lost his way
And found substances to numb his pain.
The growing distance between the man she loved
Realized, as they spent time away.
Everything would change the moment they landed.
Would they miss her if she stayed?
She felt she could not endure another moment…
As she stood alone in her torture
She transcended to a different existence
Away from the pain
a great peace fell over her
A Voice quietly spoke Its truth!
“My Grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness…”
A verse from the bible that had given her comfort before,
was now spoken to her audibly!
Never had she heard THIS voice.
She knew at that moment, that whatever she faced,
She was not alone!!
She had transcended on the balcony that night!
She went to sleep beside him that night,
with the courage to face her challenges ahead!
(Quote from 2 Corinthians 12:9)
(This is a true story, and I literally heard a quiet voice saying those words on the last night of my Mexican vacation. I was so sad and stressed and no, I am not crazy. Everything did change when I came back. We broke up, my son’s addiction progressed but I have always had the grace to handle it. I do believe God’s strength is being made strong in my weakness!)
Written Jan 11, 2022 For This or that, Vol.9 Poetry contest
sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Title Chosen "Transcendence"
Written: May 13, 2023
3rd contest winner
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lichen lilies lavishness,
outwardly shine as canorous core,
an idyllic sight of buds bursting
a ballet of aromas filled the sky,
as dulcet spring hues dump down.
Butterflies seduce
with trellised wings
amid ethereal sapphire
mist of Elysium,
I tossed my amorous nexus gloss,
countless metaphors emerge
an abyssal-rooted niche of insight,
a sporadic charm is startling
and delightful.
At sunrise, red orioles flutter
garden spring on my balcony,
ushering with cheerful chirps.
Emerald lime stains all that,
wild geese honk loudly,
ebbing from tropic migration
a cluster of violet fern flowers
zestful azure azaleas
vibrant daffodils are in bloom
fluffy tulips in all their glory
buoyant spring hues aurify the clay.
Beyond that, there is no bounds
amid hypnotic Eve and pinnacle
from a charmed sight
my gaze is wide and riveted,
through this impressive display,
an exuberant plethora of shades
glistening on rain-washed skin,
sky-smitten, diaphanous blithe
melting into mesmerizing shapes
strange sights subdue my mind,
as my heart beats with delight,
emerging from its hushed cocoon.
a vision of ageless grace.
Initiating sensory stimulation.
witness the marvelous artwork.
carefully crafted by a skilled hand
to bequeath a masterpiece
beaming with the spirit of love
a mesmerizing charm
a live sculpture in motion
& a pure symphonic melody
embrace a cosmic radiance
amidst a celestial daydream,
dazzling in a blaze of sequins
my heart is yearning,
an enthralling rhythm echoes within
optimism surrounds splendor
this exquisite ruffle relic,
a morphing metaphor draws on forever
clarifying the layout of magnificence.
Beads of lilac amethyst
observe a lunar synodic cycle
debunking twilight
desultory musings
an auric haze wrapping
jubilant jewels are in motion
I am an awe-struck artist
weaving a quilt of love,
a dazzling aura of shining words
playing a whispering debate
under dulcet moon glow
In unique words,
stars are willing to shine for us
our love outshines all else
even most dazzling clusters,
an equally bright radiance
all over, a billion red diamonds
under oriental lily skies.
At dusk, a brilliant western panorama
displayed off our seventh floor balcony.
Fluorescent colors, clouds of fuchsia, amber,
yummy yellow golden glazes across the sky.
So spectacularly spanning sentient space
a show of shows of unearthly grace.
Looming large clouds block the final moments
of light, tumultuous turmoils of my
little life reappear to slant the final view.
In contrast to my current mind of hope lost
for the future, the world closes in as I fell
into the despairing darkness of sleep that night
to awake in my dream to a gala porch party
on our balcony, attending was everyone,
my benefactors - Mark Twain, Martin Luther King,
Albert Einstein, Leonard Cohen, Rudyard Kipling,
Robert Frost, Maya Angelou and Dorothy Parker.
The "usuals" who would, could draw me close
but I'd have none of it, my mood morose.
Sullen, I waded disconsolate through the crowd
to the rail, reached in the basket I'd kept
for the long hemp escape rope, supple as a snake,
knotted it, put the loop around my neck
heart pounding, they gasped, chatter turned to fear.
Then a white dove flew under our canopy
and sat on Kipling's shoulder peacefully posing.
Clumsily confused, I climbed atop the railing
turned to look at the party - troubled, bereft,
speechless, said nothing, then jumped.
Oh the rushed flying feeling enthralling!
Soaring in the wind, all the while falling -
instantly, I was sorry it would all stop.
The dove descending on me caught my gaze
an iconic spiritual symbol that allured.
Through the dove's eyes I saw the party leaning,
a taut rope, a body swinging below.
Startled from dour slumber, back in my bed;
no breath, panting, panicked, tears trickling,
my wife up to hug me, save me from myself.
Shaken, I knew just exactly what to do
quickly to the balcony, opened the rope basket
to find all in place, then I noticed my hands,
palms bleeding, rope burned and raw,
pinned to my nightshirt was a piece of paper,
on it was this poem that I'd never written.
Bleary beyond belief, a surge force welled up,
a dove flies into the dawn sky bursting new light -
the otherness released finally from within.
I felt new found freedom from dream depths -
reborn, awake with renewed hope,
that memorable morning on the seventh floor.
I found you in my peripheral the other day
Thought I had scrubbed you out, but i was wrong
And I hear that I'm off your radar but I can't believe that
Or I won't believe that
Cause you were like a drug dealer
Dealing listening ears and crying shoulders
Dealing blood and tears and sly winks
But you never shoot your own junk
Just made sure we were all buying
And now I still can't drive by 12th and D
Without trying to remember
Who got cuffed to the porch rail
Cause they were getting outta hand
Or that night you pointed your claw at me
And marked me for your own
You'd always tell me that I knew why
I knew the reason didn't I
Abd I was too scared to tell you no
No, sorry, man, I didn't know
Still don't
But I still can't drive past Java Jazz
Or where it used it be
Without seeing you rock out to The Sickness for the thousandth time
When everybody else got clean of you, I was the one who still had the shakes
It took six people to talk me down
Open my eyes
It took bolt cutters to sever those strings
And now I'm standing by myself, bleeding into this wine glass for no real reason
Guess I'll put on a band aid and start walking
Might as well put down the blades and start walking
That's all I've ever known how to do
Just sew it up and move on
But I think you know why I still can't walk the railroad tracks without casting glances to my back
To see if you're still there
You're not
But you knew that
Maybe we'll see face to face again sine day,
But we'll sure never bleed vein to vein again someday
And I think you know why
And maybe someday I'll walk down 14th without looking up to the balcony reminding myself that time-turners aren't real
I guess I still hold on because I know that when I finally let it go, it'll be gone
And all the time I spent working my way to your right hand will have been a waste
but even if I can't abide the vampiric twinkle in your eye I know that somehow I'm still under your skin
In your veins
I know that our book is still open like a wound
Like the scars on your arm
And before I slap on the band aid and walk away I guess I just need to say
That I'll never walk down the railroad tracks again without tossing a glance over my shoulder
Wishing you were still there
As little child walked in the field of flowers,
Picking and smelling them as she grows,
The pervading air fragrance of Guava
The majestic mellow Mangoes too in wet season,
The atmosphere of green garden eggs,
Caressing melody of crunchy carrots cracker,
The hidden colours of pineapples,
Bulb of yellow oranges lighted the line green trees,
Would be in season all year, including rags to
riches filling Maize
And pods shelled nourishing beans,
Surging umbrella leaves of papaya,
Shallow rooted coco-yam,the variegated
lettuce that brightens everyday,
With the crowded bananas are growing everyday,
But now,they are in wet tins and dry cartons
For that very busy mankind.
The landscapes within are beautifully measureless,
The Jacaranda and Tamarind trees had cast
Their shadows on the plain, and not forgetting,
The Silk-cottons and the wilderness of palm fruits
That grow tall and sure,
And under them we played cracking out nuts and
eating them,
But now, elevated long balcony, we have
That you stand and weep of the passing phases.
The sepulcher we all grew up in,
Might not be the same dungeon now,
And the cradle you are born in
Could well be the same abode now,
Thatched roof has given birth
To corrugated reflections,
Likewise the fragile asbestos fight for space with concretizing flat,
The mud debris has turned to bricks and plaster erect;
New galaxies of dwelling and scattered
About in a festival of designs;
Some are like an octagonal
A cone, a triangle and spec angular façade yet unseen;
All glasses, cupped and straight down
Like the eccentric mansions in heaven,
The spec tropic clime had turned suddenly,
The wind blows and smell of change,
The sun blaze down on man and space and warned,
Of great consequent yet in the
Outer-atmosphere would burst,
As we are cuddly warm
The poles wildly discharged their zillion captured
Water in a spasm of deluge right upon us…I think,
Like urchins, we fumble forgetting the next hour,
But what would happen is nature’s raison d’etre;
Man and his environ scope both have shibboleth gone pathways
And fast we are turning into artificial humankind.